


Golden Ink

by WanderingWorldWarrior



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, I intended for Reader to be female but this can honestly be read as neutral, Kinda, No use of y/n, Reader is human, Reader-Insert, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 02:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15547896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingWorldWarrior/pseuds/WanderingWorldWarrior
Summary: Soulmarks are a normal part of everyday life - they display the individual's soulmate's exact current age, counting up until the moment the two meet.But your soulmate's age has been a source of confusion for you and those who notice it.After all, humans don't live anywhere close to a thousand years.Find me on Tumblrhere!Consider joining myDiscord!





	Golden Ink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [temerey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/temerey/gifts).



> This one-shot is a gift for Temerey, for donating to my Ko-fi (not to mention translating my other Loki fics into German)! I offered to do a request for them as a thank you. <3
> 
> It was refreshing and kind of fun to write a Loki story outside of my current series lol  
> And I pinky swear, I did my best to make this as angst-free as possible lmao

You were scrubbing dishes, white sleeves rolled up to your elbows, when the newbie finally asked you.

 

“Is that…?” she questioned incredulously. “Does it really say that?”

 

You glanced down at the metallic numbers scripted across your arm. Yep – still counting higher on an already impossibly high age. It used to bother you, when people pointed it out. You’d worn the long sleeves, donned a light jacket even in the summer heat. Nowadays, though? You could honestly care less about covering the soulmark.

 

“Yeah,” you replied, wiping your wet hands on a dishtowel and then holding your arm out for the new girl to inspect. You tried not to be bitter. It did get old, people gawking at your mark, but you knew that the everyday thing to you was a crazy moment to them. “Not an alteration or anything.”

 

“Wow,” she said, eyebrows high on her forehead. “It’s… pretty.”

 

You felt your brow furrow, and you glanced from her to your arm. That wasn’t what you thought she was going to say.

 

The golden soulmark sat smooth atop your skin, the counting numbers glistening slightly as they formed and reformed, like fresh ink. “Oh. Thank you,” you said, rubbing a thumb across it self-consciously. “I guess there’s always that.”

 

“Yeah. I mean, look at this,” she replied, raising her arm and pointing to her soulmark. The numbers were very boxy and black, like that of a digital clock. The mark read ‘24, 118, 20, 45, 12’ – the exact age of her soul mate, counting up in years, days, hours, minutes, and seconds. She rolled her eyes and dropped her arm. “Whoever my soulmate is must be pretty boring.”

 

You laughed with her. Even though she hadn’t asked about your numbers, and even though everyone in the kitchen was ignoring the both of you, you couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable. Talking about marks had always done that to you. You gave the newbie a quick grin and then turned to check the time. “Gotta’ run. We should be loading up the food soon.”

 

“Right!” the girl said, all business at once.

 

The both of you set off, talk turning to work rather than personal things.

 

It was a big event – a gala – and if any of you missed a beat, you knew your boss would have something to say about it. Or rather, something to yell about it. Laura really liked to yell.

 

Jonas stood by the back of one of the vans, pouring over an itemized list of everything the company was taking to the museum. You found yourself starting to run on autopilot as you walked back and forth, gathering the things your team would need for set up tonight.

 

You remembered when you used to think your soulmark was pretty. That was back when you were a kid, when you didn’t really understand what the marks meant, or just how _odd_ yours was. You could remember an article that had been written about you, the theories that had been thrown around, the pictures your parents had sent in to the reporters. Your family had been told to call if the mark ever changed, disappeared, or settled into a “real” number.

 

It hadn’t.

 

—

 

Setting up at the gala took forever, and although you and your coworkers had dressed in the company’s fancy uniforms, you could feel yourself starting to sweat. Moving heavy equipment and breakable glasses and stacks of plates and bulky tables and platters of food was not an easy task. A strand of hair had escaped your hairdo, and you were trying your absolute best to keep that bastard tucked behind your ear.

 

You and your team were all bustling around, working hard to have everything set up before the presentation was over. You could hear quite a crowd milling around in the other room, their voices audible over the soft classical music. You didn’t necessarily like these kinds of events, but you’d take a gala over a wedding.

 

Good God, you hated catering weddings. The wedding party was  _always_ stressed, which meant you and the other staff were always stressed, and the couple’s relatives never failed to have something to say about the food and those serving it. Not to mention the union of two soulmates had everyone spying on one another’s soulmarks, and that meant question-city for you. And while you always reminded yourself not to be resentful, the last thing you needed was someone holding up the buffet line while they gaped at the mark on your arm. That was a sure fire way to get shouted at by Laura after the event.

 

You were more than ready to get this gala over with, finish things up at work, and then head home to the nice bottle of red you’d been saving. But, until then, you put on your best server face and waited for hungry people to file in and get their overpriced hors d’oeuvres.

 

But no one ever came. Instead, the main room abruptly erupted into a chorus of screams.

 

“What the hell?” Jonas asked sharply, eyes widening with fear.

 

You could hear nothing but pure panic emanating from the other room, people rushing past the entrance of the area you and your team were in – a woman in a blue dress lost both of her shoes and just kept running. Your heart ramped up into fourth gear, adrenaline streaking through your body.

 

“Is there a shooter?!” the new girl questioned hysterically.

 

“Where’s an exit?!” another of your coworkers shouted as he turned in a frantic circle.

 

“There!” one of the guys exclaimed, and he pointed towards the back of the room.

 

The caterers rushed towards the emergency exit, Jonas setting off the alarm as he threw the door open. The loud, angry noise made the situation seem even more urgent. Jonas began waving everyone ahead as he held the door.

 

Before you turned to follow your team, you cast a final glance through the area’s entrance and into the main room. And you found yourself… momentarily stunned. A man was walking by in the wake of the terrified guests, his eyes locked on the museum’s main entry. It was the lack of panic on his face that made you pause, the fact that he appeared to be in no rush to get out of the building. His steps seemed fluid, the way he moved almost too seamless to be natural.

 

He was… stunning. Even from where you stood, you could tell he was handsome.

 

You could’ve sworn, when he had first calmly stepped into view, that he’d been wearing an elegant suit. But you must have been mistaken, because now….

 

His clothing seemed foreign – black and green leather, embellishments of gold, a cape of dark emerald flowing behind him as he moved. He wore a golden, horned helmet, which was more than out of place for the gala.  _He_ was out of place.

 

Jonas yelled your name loudly, the sound echoing around the large room, and as he did, the man you were watching turned his head and looked straight at you.

 

Your heart leapt and chill-bumps rapidly crawled up your arms.

 

It was enough to jolt you into action, for you to stumble backwards as you made your way towards Jonas and the exit.

 

“What are you doing?!” your coworker asked you desperately, clapping his large hand over your arm as he hurriedly pulled you through the door. “We’re slipping around back, getting the fuck out of here, back to the vans, alright? The vans!”

 

“I’m- I’m sorry,” you stuttered as you began to run.

 

Jonas had been the only one to wait on you. The two of you booked it towards the back of the museum, on to the side lot where your company had been instructed to park the vans after unloading. All of the vehicles were gone except one – the other drivers must have peeled off as soon as they reached the lot. Three of your team was still there, crowded around the last van. As soon as the little group saw you and Jonas, they started waving their hands and yelling about the keys.

 

“I have the keys!” Jonas called out as the two of you neared.

 

Sirens had begun going off in the distance – whatever had gone on inside of the museum had been bad enough for the police to get involved. There was some sort of commotion at the museum’s entrance, and you thought you caught the sound of a loud voice as you piled into the back of the van with your coworkers.

 

“Fuck this,” you heard Jonas say as he slammed the driver’s door closed and twisted the keys in the ignition.

 

The ride back to your workplace was rough, and as you sat in the vehicle listening to your cohorts try to make sense of what had happened, you realized you still could not quit shaking.

 

—

 

You couldn’t get his face out of your mind.

 

A couple glasses of wine did wonders to quell the leftover anxiety that had been curled in your stomach, however it did nothing but amplify your memory of the man at the gala.

 

You had stayed late at work, watching the news with your coworkers and boss.

 

“Crazy,” Laura had said, shaking her head with her hands on her hips. “Crazy! Hard to believe that he got away, too. ‘Super heroes’, bah! Not so ‘super’ if they let someone like that slip through their fingers!”

 

Thinking back on her statement made you frown. You rubbed your face and picked up the glass on your coffee table. She had been right; it was unsettling, yes. You pulled your legs up on the apartment couch and took another sip of wine as you scrolled through your phone.

 

Watching the news with your coworkers, all of you crowded in the breakroom, had been an odd experience. Everyone had continued to rehash the events of the night over and over, so much so that it was hard to hear the TV over their talking.

 

The newscasters had gone over (in detail) the photos and videos taken by the crowd that had been corralled outside of the museum. They’d flashed a few pictures on the screen, displaying the heroic attempts of the heroes that had come to stop the villain. And while Laura went on another tirade about the word ‘heroes’, the reporter had pulled up a photo of said villain’s face, warning everyone to keep an eye out for him.

 

And your stomach had dropped.

 

No one had believed you when you said you’d seen him – this ‘Loki’. As a matter of fact, only Jonas had given any indication that you’d said anything at all.

 

Your boss had dismissed everyone after that, insisting things progress as normal. Lots of work to be done, especially now that there was no way of immediately retrieving the equipment used at the gala.

 

 _Could’ve given us a fucking day off_ , you thought heatedly, frowning at your phone before setting it aside.

 

Your glass was empty, and you knew better than to have another. Besides, it was already late, and you _did_ have to be up for work tomorrow.

 

You sighed as you stood and stretched, pushing your hands towards the ceiling. As you brought your arms back down, your soulmark flashed in the warm light of the lamp on the end table.

 

You paused.

 

You checked your arm.

 

You rubbed your eyes and checked your arm again.

 

“What?” you asked yourself, having a hard time believing what you were seeing.

 

The fiasco at the gala was apparently not the only impossible thing that had happened tonight. You sat back down on the couch, trying to comprehend… to understand….

 

The golden numbers, that had been ever changing, always counting… were now still.

 

—

 

The next day, you didn’t roll up the sleeves on your uniform. It was the only way to take your mind off of your mark and focus on work. Laura was in a horrid mood, as the police were not inclined to let her workers retrieve the company’s equipment from a crime scene. No amount of shouting changed their minds, so she shouted at her employees instead.

 

You were more than happy to take your lunch break, choosing to walk to the nearest café just to get some air. And some coffee. You’d admittedly not gotten much sleep the night before, after your discovery.

 

 _It has to be a fluke_ , you thought as you waited in line. _Has to be. Everyone always said my numbers meant I didn’t have a soulmate, and no way did I see anyone yesterday that could possibly match…. But how could…. Maybe it was…._

 

The barista asked for your order, and you gave it to her.

 

“Cute –”

 

“ _Cute_? You mean handsome –”

 

Two girls giggled behind you in line, conversing in what they apparently thought were whispers. You figured they were talking about the guy making the drinks and mentally rolled your eyes as you paid and stepped back to wait for your order.

 

You watched the line, noticing that not only were the two girls _not_ looking at the guy behind the counter, but that several people kept following their gaze and glancing over somewhere behind you.

 

You figured spinning around to look behind would seem a _bit_ obvious. That, and a little jaded part of your mind reminded you, _Doesn’t matter anyway. Cute, handsome, whatever, doesn’t matter because you supposedly already met your “soulmate”._

 

You crossed your arms as the giggly girls stepped closer to you to wait for their orders. Last night you had ended up deciding your soulmark had finally broken – it had counted up and up until it realized just exactly how impossible it was. Or maybe something about the gala had set it off – the life threatening situation going on or… _something_.

 

You were still thankful you and your coworkers had been on the outskirts of the disaster, and hadn’t really been involved.

 

Your name was called, and you stepped up to the counter and grabbed your food and drink. As you turned back towards the door, you glanced over at the tables to your right, the ones that you had had your back towards.

 

And there, sitting at one of the tables, was the man the entire country was on the lookout for. The one you’d sworn you’d seen at the gala.

 

His eyes cut to yours, and it felt like electricity swept through your body. With slow, fluid motions, he grinned, lifted his hand, and crooked his finger.

 

You tightened your hands on your food and drink so that you wouldn’t drop them. You were stalling the pickup line now, the two girls giving you a look when you didn’t immediately move over for them.

 

A million things were running through your mind, but it all really boiled down to: _How is no one panicking right now? Does no one else recognize him? Why the fuck is he **here**? Why the fuck is he looking at **ME**?!_

 

You took a few steps forward, to get out of the girls’ way… and then you kept walking, intending to head straight for the exit.

 

“Come on, now,” the man said evenly as you grew closer to his table. “I don’t bite.” You kept walking, about to pass him when he said, “I just want to talk.”

 

_What?_

 

“Why?” you blurted out, your tone somewhere past incredulousness.

 

You realized you had quit walking, and you quickly resumed your path to the exit.

 

“My count ceased when we met eyes last night.”

 

Your feet stilled, and you stood thinking for a good five seconds. Slowly, you turned around, brow creased. “Are you…. Are you trying to tell me I stopped your clock?”

 

“If that is what your people call it, then yes, I suppose,” he answered with a shrug.

 

After a few beats of silence, you said quietly, “You’re lying.”

 

“A fair assumption, but not this time,” the man – Loki – said with a smile. And without a moment’s hesitation, he stated your age in years and days, the numbers rolling off his tongue as if he’d had them memorized forever.

 

You stared at him skeptically. It was strange seeing him up close and in person, rather than across a room or on a television screen.

 

“You look a little young for a thousand,” you finally said.

 

“One thousand and sixty four, although you’d know the exact details better than I,” Loki replied smoothly.

 

“Oh, my God,” you said, and to Loki’s surprise, you let out a short bout of laughter. “Really? This isn’t a joke, this is for real? _What_?” You numbly sat at the table across from him, a disbelieving smile still spread across your face. “This has to be a joke. But, no, really, what’s going on? How has no one called the cops on you yet? Just casually sitting in here, your face plastered all over the news.”

 

You stared at the man across from you – closer now, you noted his thin features and sharp cheekbones, his shrewd eyes (Blue? Green? You found it a little hard to tell….) and sleek, jet black hair. His attire was much the same as when you’d seen him at the gala, save for the absence of the golden helmet.

 

“Easy magic,” he replied, lips curling into a self-satisfied smile. “My appearance is one of the simplest things to alter. None here see me as I am now, save for you.”

 

“What are they seeing, then?” you asked, remembering the two giggling girls. “Because I think you’re still getting a fair amount of attention.”

 

He smirked, the expression exuding mischievousness. “I’ve no idea what you mean.”

 

You took a drink of your coffee and burned your tongue. As you set the cup back down, you realized you were shaking again. The urge to laugh was still bubbling up in your throat, stemming from a huge amount of surrealism.

 

“So, what are you, then? If you’re over a thousand years old?” you finally asked. “Because you aren’t human.”

 

“I am Asgardian,” he answered, although his smile seemed a little tight. “I come from a realm that is far from here. Quite beyond your imagination, I’d say. I must admit, I never thought that….” He paused for a moment and then added, “I assume you already know my name.”

 

“‘Loki’, they’re saying,” you said, lowering your voice. “That’s apparently what some woman in a jet called you last night.”

 

He grinned again, although now there was no mischievousness – the expression made him look dangerous. You frowned, the crazy situation suddenly seeming a lot more serious. “Show me your arm,” you said abruptly.

 

He raised a dark eyebrow. The fearsome smile slipped from his face and was immediately replaced by a genuine grin. “Of course.”

 

He had to remove his bracer, the golden piece of armor placed beside your forgotten lunch. He pulled up his sleeve and… and there it was. Your age, down to the second you had locked eyes with him in the gala.

 

“You?” he prompted, sharp gaze raking over the sleeve of your arm.

 

You glanced around and then tugged your sleeve up. Even as he leaned closer, you couldn’t quit staring at the numbers on Loki’s arm. They were silver, which didn’t seem to stand out quite well against his fair skin. Each number was a little blotchy, as if an unsteady hand had made them. Compared to the pristine mark on your arm….

 

You were distracted by a light sensation on your skin. Loki had reached out, long fingers hovering over the golden numbers of your soulmark: 1064, 203, 14, 22, 55. “Truly there,” he murmured.

 

“Well…. I guess it’s… real, then,” you said.

 

“A Midgardian,” Loki stated, shaking his head and staring at you. “I never would’ve guessed.”

 

You ignored the strange word he had called you and instead asked, “So, your mark, huh? It’s kind of….” You made a face. “I… guess that tells you something about me. My personality. And you’re like,” _handsome_ , your brain stated, “an alien or something, so I figure all of this must be pretty…” you searched for a word, and then settled on, “disappointing.”

 

“I love this mark,” Loki said with such conviction that it made your train of thought grind to a halt. “I love it because it exists.”

 

You weren’t sure how to respond, and in the following silence, he began to expound. “I had no soulmark growing up, you see. No match gifted to me by the fates, no soul bound to fall for mine. And as I got older, word was that it was obvious why I had no mark. I was too wicked, too chaotic for anyone to love. And I turned my face away, and said I did not care.”

 

His fingers trailed across the silver numbers on his skin as he spoke. _He did care_ , you thought. _He cared a lot._

 

“Years passed,” Loki continued, his voice level. “Decades. I’ll never forget the day I saw it. I was reading, turning the page when I noticed the numbers.” He met your eyes. “ _Your_ numbers. They gave me hope, that there was someone out there that could love the unlovable. I have been searching for you for _years_.” Loki’s fingers twitched, as if he had to stop himself from reaching out and taking your hand. “And seeing you for the first time, I shan’t forget that, either. A single glance to my left, and there you were. Perfectly framed by the arch of the room’s entrance, as if everything in that moment had been directing me to you. Glorious.” He said the word with great reverence, eyes openly dancing across your face. But then he paused, seeming troubled. “Yet I never expected to find you here, at this point in my life.” He leaned closer across the table, gaze boring into you. “If anyone should be disappointed, it’s you.”

 

You were quiet a moment, your mind trying to sort through his words. It was a lot, _a_ _lot_ to take in. And him being that close to you… wasn’t helping. “I’m… I don’t know how I feel. I guess I’m… shocked,” you admitted. “But, uh, for the record… I’m glad you exist, too.” He frowned, as if he had been expecting you to say something else. “Everyone, including me, was pretty sure my mark was a fluke. I mean, um, I’m not sure if you know this, but humans don’t live anywhere close to a thousand years. So, my mark has been pretty weird compared to the rest.”

 

“Troubling,” he mused quietly, looking off to the left. “Although I’m sure there are ways to go about skirting mortality.”

 

“What?” you asked, but again, he waved the question away.

 

“Regardless… thank you, for the sentiment,” he said. “I had not thought you would suspect I was nonexistent.”

 

You laughed again, which seemed to both confuse and amuse him. “Glad we could establish that we both exist,” you said. The smile faded from your face, and you looked him over carefully. “So, uh, what now? You seem knee-deep in some pretty bad stuff. And I’m… not really… _comfortable_ … with the ‘taking over my world’ thing.”

 

“Ah,” he said, a dark smirk crossing his face. “Yes, I suppose that would be a conflict of interest. What if I assure the safety of you and those you care for?”

 

“Uh, I guess that’s a nice thought, but not really… good enough, you know?” you said carefully, keeping your tone light on purpose.

 

“We just met, and you’d already ask so much of me?” Loki lamented, also keeping his tone playful.

 

“Yeah, saying ‘Hey, soulmate, maybe don’t enslave my planet?’ is, I guess, a lot to ask,” you said, watching as he fastened his golden bracer back into place.

 

He chuckled, and you realized you found the sound alarmingly attractive. _This guy has killed people!_ you reminded yourself. And then came the realization, _Oh, God, my **soulmate** has killed people. What the hell does that say about me as a person? _You knew you weren’t the most moral individual in the world, but Loki seemed to be on a whole different level.

 

Loki resuming the conversation broke you from your thoughts. “I’ve thrown my lot in with some very dangerous beings,” he stated, the light tone abandoned. He folded his hands beneath his chin, his gaze sly as he stared at you. “Changing the plan would be quite… frowned upon.” He paused, eyes again cutting to the left. “Although… I am renowned for my adaptability. When it suits me.”

 

“That sounds… promising?” you said hopefully.

 

Loki stood up, his eyes finding yours. After a few seconds he said, “I’d like to see you again, at a later date.”

 

“Yeah,” you said, your face flushing slightly. “I mean, I guess. If you don’t end up… captured or dead or something.”

 

He smiled widely at you, genuine excitement in his eyes. “Excellent.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/wanderingworldwarrior)!  
> Consider joining my [Discord](https://discord.gg/AbBAEY5)!
> 
> BTW I totally forgot to mention this, but he tracked her down via the uniform of the catering company! Ya boi is resourceful lol


End file.
